You Can’t Take the Slut (or the Good Girl) Out of Me
I’ve come back to my wholeness
A year ago, I thought I had met my match. It was the first time I’d found myself with a man who seemed sexually compatible with me. His passion seemed to match my own. He encouraged my sexual expression and didn’t seem judgmental or put off by it, like most of my past lovers.
I was excited to let myself run free with him. To see how far I could take it. How much I could be myself without having to hold back.
It was thrilling.
One night, I was so filled with passion, I couldn’t stop dancing around my kitchen. And I decided to do something I had only done for a lover one other time: I decided to perform for him.
I set up my phone on the counter and turned on one of my favorite dance songs. As I did the dishes and cleaned up, I laughed, I swayed my hips, I made sexy faces and laughed again.
It was fun, but scary. Expressing my sexuality in a way that asks a man to take it seriously is overwhelmingly vulnerable for me. Almost every time I’ve done that in the past, I have been criticized and rejected.
The moment I pressed record and knew he would see it, I became filled with self-doubt, embarrassment, fear, and even shame.
